Haunted Eyes
by The Grimm Fairytale Girl
Summary: Book 1 of 'A Remington Is A Weapon' series. Piper Remington is a 20 year old hunter with a mysterious past. When she falls into familiar trouble she has to call on an old friend for help. Soon she finds herself in the middle of the Winchester boys tagging along on their ride. Or more so being dragged along. How is the last Remington involved with the Winchesters?...
1. Chapter 1

**Hello my people. My name is Ryuu and this is going to be my first story to actually post. It has been a long time in the making and even now as I write this, I haven't even really touched the surface of it. The characters I have created are my children. I worked really, really hard on them and lost more sleep than I should of. There have been tears... And laughs, people looking at me questionably while I wrote parts where I had to let my emotions shine. It was beautiful. I think I'm banned from some places now.**

 **Note, I am not the best writer, but I do try my best. If you have questions or opinions- voice them. I ain't shy.**

 ** _WARNING_**  
 **There will be graphic scenes. They won't be too extreme; just enough to make you uncomfortable and glance around your shoulders. I wanted to write something that would be a really hard challenge for my character to overcome. The nature of my story is dark, and the more I write about her the darker she seems to be. I don't alter my characters' personalities much. When I create one it's almost like meeting a stranger on the street and befriending them. You don't define their personality, they already came to you with it. You can only alter it to the best of your ability as their friend.**

 **Piper Remington has a bad past. Involving tears, gasping, being sick to the stomach, longing, _praying_ , falling in love with Will completely...**

 **Tho I think the story involving Will is probably going to be a different book in my series, it _is_ in the works.**

 **On that note: I litterally cannot describe how insane and busy my life is, I write when I can and sleep when I can no longer write, but stick with me fellas, cause if you really enjoy a story for what it is, rather than just plain fluff with your favorite character; then I have a feeling you're going to like this one. And if you don't...**

 **Bite me.**

 **Book 1 of "A REMINGTON IS A WEAPON" Series.**

 **A Sam Winchester Love Story In Denial.**

 **Sam has a nightmare of a girl in danger. Then unexpectedly John calls the next morning and tells them the coordinance for someone who needs help. Bound and determined Sam and Dean set out to save her, without ever expecting what they were about to step into.**

 **Piper Remington is a hunter. Piper Remington is cursed. Piper Remington is a freak.**

 **Her whole life has been one tragic event after the other while she tries to control the power in her blood.**

 **John Winchester was like an uncle to her. And Sam Winchester was a person she swore she would never let herself near, because if she did, she knew he would die.**

 **She spent most of her childhood on her own, hunting, surviving, protecting people. Including the Winchester boys. A hunt goes wrong for her and she finds herself in trouble she can't escape. So, she goes to a friend to help, and reluctantly join the brotherly duo.**

 **They find her to be more of a handful then they first intended, but they wouldn't trade her for the world. She often goes on solo hunts and leaves them to do their own thing, and she hangs out with Bobby quite often.**

 **She becomes a bigger part of their life than they could of ever imagined.**

 **Piper's adventures are dark and edgy. But, it lead her to the people in her life, and finally, after so long, happiness.**

* * *

"Same Old Road Trip"

Sam's day began with a jolt.

Followed by his brother's glare of concern.

"Sammy…" Dean's voice was gravel as he observed the rushed breaths his little brother was nearly choking on. They were sharp and deep. His waking mind causing him to panic as wretched visions assaulted his already wounded psych. His eyes darted from side to side, his head in a state of vertigo and swirls, it shook as if he was extremely drunk and more so, dizzy.

He turned his head and found his big brother.

Dean let out a sigh that announced his annoyance of having his brother be completely terrified every single time he woke up. Sometimes it seemed like he was going to hyperventilate and or pass out. The older boy rubbed his temple with his right hand before quickly sweeping his fingers through his short hair. He sniffed, his nose scrunching up briefly as his hands found their way to the familiar skin of the steering wheel. He left them to rest there.

Sam had already started trying to calm down. Forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths as he told himself over and over in his head that he was fine. It was a phrase that not only meant that Dean and him were safe, but that everything that had happened was fine and he was okay. He was fine. He kept telling himself, hoping one day he could be convinced it wasn't a lie.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked with soft, but frustrated eyes.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes holding a sort of determination found in those who would push themselves to the edge until they dropped.

He cleared his throat. Willing his voice to not crack and show his pain. He forced his words to come.

"Ye-ah. Yeah, I'm _fine_."

There it was again.

Spat from trembling lips as he shifted in his seat. Pulling his body to sit up straighter and grant him a better view.

He glanced around and noticed the small diner the car had been parked at. Already putting the pieces together and figuring that Dean probably stopped so they could get something decent to eat. He must of been tired of candy bars and cheap beers from low-key gas stations.

Sam wasn't aware of the fact that the car had been parked there for nearly an hour. Dean had waited for Sam. Ignoring his hunger and ever present eagerness to eat because of his concern for the troubled young man. He wanted to be sure his brother got some rest for once. God knows the kid needed it. Day by day Dean watched the increasing dark circles under his hazel eyes. It worried him, and with the headaches he knew Sam was suffering from frequently added with him starting to shake and rattle occasionally, he knew his brother was in dire need of sleep or else he was going to get sick, or worse.

He had also caught him spacing off at random times throughout the day. Sam was the type who never got so lost in his thoughts that he would cause himself to be unaware of his surroundings. He made it a priority to always be on top of every situation. Because if you didn't, then people could get hurt real fast. A distracted moment and you've messed up; Someone dies. A dismissive observer and something vital gets missed. They both had to learn to always be conscious. Sam could sometimes take this to the extreme.

Another worrisome thing Dean had noticed was how Sam would slur his words here and there, Sam was typically pretty aware of his manners and always tried to present himself clearly. So, these new little traits were an unwelcome characteristic.

Dean opened his mouth to say something. What? He didn't know. He just knew that he had to get Sam to opened up about it so he could move on with his life.

Sam's dark eyes hovered on his brother's. A silent, imploring plea for him to not mention it. He wordlessly begged his brother allowing Dean to study him, there was no mistaking those tired, haunted, puppy dog eyes. Sam just needed him to drop it so that they could get on with their day. So, Dean closed his mouth.

Dean trying to get Sam to open up would surely result in a fight, leading them to just be pissed off at one another for the rest of the day. Something Sam really didn't need added to his list of problems. The oldest Winchester must have gotten the plea or was simply tired of the situation and wanted to move on so they weren't stuck there screaming at each other.

Either way Sam was thankful for not having to deal with his brother confronting him again and trying to pry into his sanity. He knew he was messed up. Severely messed up. He didn't need his brother's pitying confirmation. He needed to find the thing that took what he loved away from him. He needed justice, revenge, closure. He needed closure.

In Fact they were on their way back from visiting Jessica's grave. After everything with Sarah things had been better, and Sam decided that he wanted to visit Jessica and give her a proper goodbye. Dean thought this would be a good opportunity for Sam to heal even more and encouraged it the whole drive. Even though, Sam felt at multiple times during their trip that they shouldn't go. Sometimes it was even to the point where Dean had to yell at him to try and force reason into the kid's scrambled head. When they eventually arrived it was harder than Sam thought it would be, but he was strong, he got through it. And overall he seemed like a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Dean was glad to see Sam be on the mend. For that whole day after visiting Jess the boys felt like they were breathing fresh, easy air.

But, like all the good things in their miserable lives the joy was shattered. Their demise came in form of a horrific nightmare. Sam's nightmares of Jess began again and as Dean slowly watched Sam deteriorate, he felt more and more guiltier about pushing Sam so hard to face his past and get everything over with. Dean just wanted them to be able to go forwards, but instead it felt like they were just constantly being torn backwards.

And despite him denying it, Sam was back to a steady decline.

Sam wasn't worried about himself, and he knew Dean shouldn't be either.  
A side factor announced that he would be a liar if he said that a small part of him didn't take joy in knowing his brother cared about him. Though, another part of him told him that Dean just needed him to be solid so that he could be sure his back was covered and that Sam wasn't going to mess everything up. It warned him that Dean's intentions were only to benefit himself. It was a drilling doubt in the back of his mind that pounded against his brain. Why would Dean actually care about his well being? He ran away. Left his brother the first chance he got without ever looking back. Dean had every right to hate him. He certainly hated himself enough, it made sense everyone else should too.

Did Dean even care anymore?

The question of whether his intuition was true or not always remained unsure. A settling pit in his stomach that only held confusion.

"Come on." Dean began after breaking away from his brother's young, tortured face.

Deciding to set the elephant in the room aside for at the moment. Elephant in the car…? Moose in the car…? -The problem with Sam.

He would go into it later, maybe tonight. Allowing his brother to have some time to calm down and get to act semi normal. Well, as semi normal as they got. "Let's go get something to eat."

Sam glanced out the windshield. His eyes settling on the modest little diner. His stomach twisted at the thought of food, causing him to become momentarily nauseous until he could banish the thoughts in his head. He recovered quickly. Not even giving Dean a chance to catch on.

"I'm not hungry." Was his quick response. He whinched slightly at the harsh undertone of his words. He didn't mean to be so snappy. He just didn't want to get sick at this moment. Not that he really wanted to at any given time, this just seemed like a bad place to do so. And would undoubtedly lead to an interrogation starring Sam and Dean Winchester. Not a wanted event.

So, Sam waited in silence, wondering if he had just made his fatal mistake.

Dean, however had little interest in getting caught up in pettiness. He couldn't blame Sam for being how he was. In fact, Snarkiness was far too normal in his family. He was used to it. Plus it eliminated the chances of chick flicks. He couldn't do those.

"Well that's too bad." He opened the car door and got out. "I am." He turned around and ducked his head back into the cab. His hands resting on the roof so that he could crane his neck and look Sam in the eyes. Sam raised his skiddish eyes hesitantly.

"Get your butt out. I'm not leaving you out here alone with Baby."

A reluctant smile crept onto the younger brother's face. Causing his dimples to appear from the amusement he found in how protective Dean was of his precious car. Because it wasn't just a car. It was a part of the family.

It had been a beacon of hope, a never ending rush of joy, a safe shelter, a comforting presence.  
They never had a homebase they could always rely on to return to, but they did have that car. Which in some cases was better, because they could take it wherever and automatically feel safe.

The dimples vanished just as quickly as they had graced his features. He sighed, reaching down to grab his bag before opening his door with a push and sliding out to follow his brother. Dean waited till Sam's door slammed shut before copying his action and taking lead, making sure Sam followed close behind as they entered the welcoming restaurant.

Dean walked to the counter while Sam b-lined for a booth near the back. It was secluded and as inconspicuous as a moth burning in a flame. So mildly easy to spot. But common and unusual for someone suspicious to sit there. So that's where he sat. Unfortunately the art of being undetected came with the fearful cost of some elderly couple wanting to have a visit with you, or some desperate, lonely, old grandmother who lacked attention from her grandchildren. Luckily, there seemed to be none of those around. But, he made sure to face away from the door and people as he pulled his laptop out and set it in front of him. Powering it on and waiting for it to start up. Moments later Dean joined him and sat facing him in the booth. Keeping the table between personal space. A greasy hamburger on a plate with a pile of fries beside it was set on the table by one hand, a glass of coke was also added to the table by his other hand.

Dean eyed Sam carefully after sitting in silence for about five minutes as he ate. He narrowed his eyes, noting the determined expression on his brother's face. His eyebrows furrowed, his lips slightly parted, and his dark eyes deeply concentrated on the screen in front of him. "Hey, Sam." Dean tested. Smirking when he received no response or even acknowledgement from his brother. Sam being far too focust in whatever he was working on to even hear Dean.

With evil in his eyes he snatched up a fry from his plate. Slowly and as inconspicuous as a cat in a dog show he reached forwards, fry between his fingers as he targeted Sam's parted lips. Right before his hand got passed the top of the computer he hurriedly shot is hand forward.

Instantly Sam's own hand flew up and grabbed Dean's. Intercepting the older boy's joy and filling it with a rather opposite feeling.

Dean froze. His eyes wide in surprise at his brother's reflexes. Questions formed on wordless lips as Sam's eyes peered at Dean. A sheepish smile rose on Dean's face. One that mirrored a kid who was thinking of an explanation to escape his position as he stared at his judgemental mother. His hand firmly stuck in a cookie jar mere hours before dinner.

"What are you doing?" Was the only thing the shaggy haired boy asked.

"Nothing. What are _you_ doing?" He played off resentfully and overall, awkwardly, pulling his hand from Sam's grasp to bring the fry to his mouth. He grinned cheekily at Sam as he chewed.

Sam sighed heavily. His large shoulders rising before falling in defeat.

"I am doing some research on this town. Thought since we were here we might as well see if there's anything suspicious. Anything we can take care of."

" _You_ are looking for a _job_. For _us_?"

"Yeah. Why not? We've got no other leads. We might find something that could help with The Demon or something. And if not, then we can help out some people."

"Woah, hold up. What is going on? You know. It wasn't too long ago that you were doing everything you could to _avoid_ hunting. Now you're actively seeking it out like some sort of deprived bloodhound? Talk to me bud. What's going on in that freaky head of yours?"

Sam slowly shook his head from side to side. His eyes have lidded and soft. Not wanting a fight. "Dean." He simply stated, his mouth working on words without his brain, resulting in nothing more than a voice crack as he came up with nothing to say.

Dean sighed. "Okay." He blew a breath out through his nose. "So Mr. Mysterious, Stranger, Boy, Hero. What have you found?"

It was strange how normal they felt speaking about such things. Things that were unnatural. Things that were terrifying. If anyone overheard about their little salt and burn expeditions they would immediately suggest them to the insane asylum. In all honesty though, they were a bit crazy. Not quite psychopaths. But in many ways sociopaths. But, they had their reasons. No one survives the kind of trauma they've been afflicted with and turns out A okay. No one can be aware that the legends and myths are all real and be completely right in the head, that's why they became legends and myths in the first place; to protect people.

The Winchester brothers can smile. They can laugh or act detached from it. Cold, and like it doesn't affect them, but it does. It seeps into their hearts and their minds and drives them into a zone full of mental unstableness and likely alcohol addiction as a coping method.

These were boys who had been through hell. They had gone though it their whole lives before they had even stepped foot in the fiery inferno home to Lucifer himself. Their lives were their own, personal hell. That was the worst part. It followed them no matter how far they went.

Sam sucked in a long breath of air as he scrolled through online articles. Doing everything in his willpower to continue ignoring Dean stuffing fries into his mouth, he began. "So far, nothing. Like, weirdly nothing. No strange sightings, no uncommon noises, no mass murders or even suspicious suicides. Heck, on the paranormal sight the only thing that is out of ordinary is a group of local kids who wrote that they saw Santa Claus in the park one night in December. Other than that... there's nothing." He shook his head. "I think for once we actually stumbled into a town that is moderately normal. I mean, I always knew there were places like this. Otherwise our job would be so much more hectic, but I just didn't think that with our luck we'd find such a place. I guess I was wrong."

"I don't like it. I think there's something sketchy with this Santa character." Dean's voice was concerningly serious as was his expression. Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. "What?" He breathed as he lightly shook his head from side to side. All Dean did for a follow-up was raise an eyebrow at him from behind his glass.

Another shake of the head as he set his arms on the table with a slight thud. His slouched over demeanor signaling exhaustion. The younger boy looked out the window hazily. Watching as a few cars drove past the window on the quiet road. On the other side of the road laid the neighborhood. The houses all seemed so quaint and peaceful. With nice porches and big trees in their front yards. Tire swings swaying gently.

A young mother pushed a baby buggy down the sidewalk.

A little girl chased merrily after a big golden retriever who kept slowing down for her to catch up just enough that she wouldn't fall behind more than a few feet.

Two boys. About seven and ten rode by on bicycles. Side by side smiling. Enjoying the carefree joys of their childhood. That was all Sam longed to have; a childhood. All he ever wanted was to have a normal life and do fun things with his beloved big brother. Sure, at the moment they were together, on a mission to find their father that was disguised as a road trip. But, this wasn't what Sam wanted. He was doing this because he didn't have a choice.

He left for college so that he could have a normal life. He walked out on the people he loved so that he could pursue something better, something that made him happy. It wasn't selfish even though to some that was how it seemed. It seemed like he had abandoned his family just so things would be better for him. But, they măcar saw the whole picture. They never saw how his whole life he was forced to be someone he wasn't. He hated himself because he wasn't like Dean, and he wasn't the son his father wanted. He tried to be, but it wasn't right, he had too strong of morals to be someone he wasn't. He was too honest. Plus he was only endangering his father and brother by not being good enough at the job. So, he decided to go be the person he wanted to be. Be someone better than who he was. He thought he had it. He thought he was going to be okay. Instead the life he had given up everything for and had wanted so badly and honestly was savagely torn away from him. Burned above him as blood dripped onto his forehead. But, he saw the blood cover more than just that. He saw the blood covering his hands. Condemning him. Pinning his soul to be forever ruined and dirty because it was his fault.

So here he sat. Longing for the childhood he never got. For the laughs and joy he would never know. For the contentment of safety and holding the ones close and knowing everything would be okay. He was once again doing exactly what was expected of him. Hunting.

The word hunting means to pursue something. It means to go after something desired. He was cursed as a hunter. Because not only would he hunt the monsters and other creatures he would be forever hunting for that life he wished for. One that he would never receive, leaving him to be unsatisfied and yearning on his ghost hunt.

It was a twisted life he was forced to live.

He opened his mouth slightly as he willed the tears away from sight. Dying words formed on his lips before he actually spoke. A soft, tired tone taking over. "I just wish… I just wish Dad would- would call o-or Something. . I understand why he did what he did, but we don't even know if he is safe or even alive. We deserve some sort of contact with him!"

"Sammy." Deans voice was gruff and warning. Causing Sam to regret his words as his dark eyes swept over his brother's face. Preparing himself for the inevitable outburst of anger. He took the delay as a blessing and filled the moment of silence himself. "Never mind. Forget I said anything. Let's just go talk to some locals and see if they have heard of anything. I doubt the town is scotch free. And the fact that it does seem so Mayberryish is actually making me curious."

"You think maybe something is making everyone here delusional? Or maybe people are making bargains."

"Yeah, but typically deals turn sour real fast."

"Huh…" Dean shook his head as he thought. Leaning back in the booth and pushing his plate forward. "Okay then. Well, we can maybe hit the library, do some digging there. Then head to the bar. What better place is there to hear stories than from drunk people at the bar? Who knows? Maybe there's some lonely, repressed chic who needs a hero." Dean took a look at his brother before adding. "I'll get a motel tonight. I wouldn't mind getting a decent night's rest for once."

"Yeah." Sam sided with his brother. Though, in his head he was already procrastinating about his night horrors. If he was able to, he would try to stay awake, dreading what came when he closed his eyes.

They spent the next few hours at the library. Reading through some old history books and old newspapers. Dean spent the majority of his time thumbing through the magazines. After about an hour of research he came to a conclusion that he wasn't going to find anything, and the tabloids were growing tempting. He was slightly distraught at the fact that there wasn't any editions of Busty Asian Beauties. But, the muscle cars, NRA, and various celebrity scandals was enough to hold his interest.

Dean was quite pleased with himself. He had actually succeeded in making Sam take a short break from his work to browse a rifle magazine. It was completely unintentional on Sam's part. He was simply reading, eyes glued to the pages as he scanned them at an above average speed. Absorbing everything like the pesky little sponge he was. Dean walked over to the table he was at. Cringing at the two stacks of books in front of the younger man. One stack was slightly higher than the other, neater and unopened. Some of the books looked like they hadn't been touched for years. Not many people cared much about history anymore. The only thing that mattered to them was the now and what they would get later, even tho they wanted it now. The other stack of books was more carelessly piled. Built up in a hazardous way. In his hand Dean clutched an American Rifle Association magazine, tapping Sam on the shoulder with his free one.

"Dean, what?" The boy asked as he turned around to see what his older brother had found. Already having the intuition that it wasn't related to the town or anything they were in search of. Dean pointed at a picture of a gun in the catalogue. Sam attempted to dismiss him but his eyes caught on the firearm. Now suddenly interested he gently took the magazine from Dean and held it in front of him, resting his hands on the table as he browsed through it silently. A thoughtful expression on his face, and Dean had to smirk as he walked back to the chair he had been previously occupying, sinking into the cushion and snatching up yet another magazine. He eyed his brother occasionally, checking up to see if he was still intrigued by the pages. Unfortunately it only lasted about ten minutes, in which time Sam returned to his awaiting books.

Dean continued with his own personal research. Leaving Sam to be the only productive person amongst them. Dean wasn't really the sort to read books. He never had a reason to. If he was hunting with John then John would do the research while Dean did more of the recon work. Dean was a Damn good hunter and in most cases that he worked on solo he didn't need to study. He knew what he had to do. He knew how to kill and was very, very effective at it. He was one of those people who relied mainly on learning on the job. Experience was knowledge in his book. Though it wasn't uncommon for him to get into messy situations which required someone to save him and was not limited to him receiving various injuries.

But, that was his life.

Later that night Dean was busy making his rounds at the bar. Talking people up and finding out what he was able to. He didn't miss out on the chances to hustle pool when he could, adding some extra cash to their pockets. Sam decided to choose a lone table near the back and observe. His head beginning to pound with a blooming headache. He sighed deeply as he gazed at his big brother. At this moment the man was walking over to some blonde number who, from Sam's quiet opinion looked pretty greasy. Her hair a little tousled and her eye liner heavy. She held the appearance of the desperate slut that would probably spring a surprise fee on you. But, Sam knew not to judge a book by it's cover. Even still, she didn't seem like the type that went to church. But, hey. Maybe she knew something from her trips around town. People were always surprising.

Dean held a beer in each hand as he neared the superficially beautiful woman. He figured the brew would be a safe bet considering she twirled an empty on in her hand as she draped herself desperately across the grimy countertop. "Hey there." He moved to sit down next to her as he intended to start up a conversation. She turned out of her chair before he could sit down though, an irritated expression coming over her features as she shoved past him and headed for the door. Money sticking out from under her empty beer bottle in front of where she had previously been. The bartender noticed her absence and glared at Dean, blaming him for her quick leave.

Dean stood their for several seconds in shock before turning to walk to Sam. Embarrassed and slightly tired of the overall bar scene.

Sam's eyes trailed his brother as he watched with raised eyebrows and slightly flared nostrils. A cheeky grin making itself faintly aware on his lips.

That little incident with the blonde had officially made his day. It wasn't often that Dean got rejected, so times like this was always appreciated for comedic reasons.

Dean set the beer intended for a lady's enjoyment in front of Sam and took a swig of his own bitter drink.

"So, how's your night been? Get any chics to eye you at this super attractive back table that has absolutely nothing for entertainment or accessibility? It practically screams emotional trauma and bad relationship issues."

Sam shook his head at the good natured teasing. He eyed the unattended bottle in front of him, quickly deciding against it he pushed it to the other end of the table. His head was throbbing at this point. Recognising the familiar sound of rushing blood.

"How's your head?" Dean asked as he noticed the way Sam clenched his jaw. He stared into dark, half lidded eyes that told the older brother that he was in need of sleep. He had been taking care of this kid since he was six months old. He knew every little trait, every gesture and hidden action. It was his job to know and it was his job to fix it. There was this haunted, tortured look in his eyes under shaggy hair. Something the boy had always had. It reminded Dean how he had failed him.

Wounded eyes blinked several times before he nodded. Trying to remember what Dean had asked. "Yeah, I'm just tired." He admitted. Settling on his word choice by going off of the concerned expression on his brother's face.

Dean questioned his out of place response. But, didn't correct him. Instead he choose to just keep pushing forwards and get them both out of there. "Alright. How about we go get a room for the night? Then come morning we'll pull out of here, seeing that we've found nothing in the general area. This place gives me the creeps. It's too peaceful."


	2. Chapter 2

**"It all had to be taken with a grain of salt. Literally"**

Sam's potential night's sleep was banished with a jolt.

He had been laying in bed, listening to the soft snores of his brother in the bed closest to the door. It was calming and reassuring to know that not only was his brother safe; he was going to be well rested come morning. Which always led to him being in a far more tolerable mood than him waking up cranky and irritable. As he focused on the steady whispers of breath and the faint repeatedness of a wall clock, a caring smile swept onto his face; Dean would have a full night's for once. He on the other hand probably would not. Eyes staring uninterestedly at the plain white ceiling. Dull and and washed out in his deprived ness.

He had been so tired all day and he couldn't wait to just lay down and have Dean stop questioning him. Stretch his back out and have some peace. The smile faded as his mind took a turn to the darker aspects of his life. Twisting and binding like evil roots into an already cracked stone. It's atrocity causing the rock to split, little by little. Such a solid, unmovable, unbreakable object, yet a tiny plant is able to completely abolish it with nothing but perseverance.

Consensual sleep was never a considered option. But, now, as he lay alone in the waking world, a slight frown on his face as his eyebrows occasionally twisted from the thoughts that rolled through his head wildly, he wondered how long he would hold on. He could swear he couldn't even see straight due to the scrambled thoughts infecting his mentality. They made his head pound as the voices screamed behind his dark eyes. Tormenting and taunting the young man's fragile mind simply because... They could.

It was a constant and ever growing battle for him. He was so fragile as most people are, yet stronger than anyone would ever be aware of. Including, and especially, himself. When he looked in the mirror the only thing he saw staring back was someone who was pathetic and a failure. He knew he was. His father had told him. Time and Time again. Sure, his whole family was comprised of freaks, but he was the worst of them all for some reason. Nothing he could do was ever good enough, which resulted to others paying the price. He was nothing but a mistake, someone who was the reason his father's wife and his brother's mother was dead.

He knew Mary was his own mother. That for six months he felt the warmth of her embrace and the gentle hum of her voice. But, he was far too young to remember any of that. Any interaction whatsoever he had with her was lost to time. At least his brother remembered her, had memories of her to strengthen him and help him get through when she was gone.

Dean was able to remember what being a family was really like. What having a mother was like. But, Sam. Sam never got that.  
Dean Winchester _had_ a mother.

Sam Winchester **Didn't**.

Instead Sam was left in the hands of a broken child to make sure he stayed alive and to take care of him as best as he could remember how his mother had, and a father who was bent on revenge and constantly either drunk or gone. A father who far too often relied on him to release all his pent up emotions on. Leaving his young sons' minds in a constant state of turmoil as the aftermath.

Sam spent years running from his past. Staying as far from his father as possible.

Now all he wanted to do was see his father.

Sam was soon betrayed by his muddling thoughts as they slowly pulled his eyes closed. His headache disappearing with his faded conscious. His dreams subtly appeared like a ship in the night. Distorted and foggy.

That night he had a dream that he hadn't had before. Usually his dreams comprised of Jess dying and their previous hunts gone wrong. This time, it was one of his premonitions.

He saw a girl. She laid helplessly on the floor in a very small, dark room. There was no source of light. Just the solum, dark walls. She laid in an uncomfortable fetal position as she trembled in pain. Her body was full of jagged edges. Her wrists and ankles were bound by rope. The bare skin around it red and raw from her protests, some small frayed pieces of rope stuck into her tender skin, what didn't displayed crimson dipped tips. A rag- soiled and fowl- had been tied around her mouth as a gag, pulling cruelly on her lips while her eyes were covered by another cloth. Wrapped around her head tightly and tied in the back. Her dark hair was messy and knotted in several places. Unwashed for many days. Her whole, bare, body was covered in cuts and abrasions. Several large bruises taking over her caucasian coloring. A large bruise formed on her jaw, the purple infecting the surrounding area of freckled skin. Her faces had been splashed with an array of little freckles. A perfectly beautiful flaw in a beautifully imperfect way.

She curled in in herself, trying in vain to cover and protect her abused body. She struggled weakly, her breathing uneven and difficult. She occasionally whimpered or let out cries of muffled screams. Screams that no one in the area could possibly hear. 'Help' was the disorted word that would occasionally fall from her disabled mouth, her bruised lips testing the gag in a futile attempt to get more comfortable. It felt like she was going to suffocate to death.

Even tho it was still just a dream, or more accurately; a nightmare, Sam felt the overcoming feeling that he had to help her. He had to get to her and save her he knew with animalistic desire. It was like it was the only thing that mattered in the whole world. Saving her. Helping her. Protecting her and getting her away from... There. It was beyond intense that he yelled out in his sleep. Part way from horror and pain and part from sheer frustration that she was suffering. That he was stuck in his horrible nightmare with absolutely no way to get to her. He couldn't understand it because he didn't even know who she was, or at least he didn't think so. Yet, in this dream she was the most important thing in the world.

A mind torturing series of images started flashing through his vision. Resulting in another unconscious gurgle of desperation. The images seemed random; the outside of a closet door, someone faintly banging into the door and muffled cries. A new image flushed into his mind. Two eyes. Nothing more. All he saw was a pair of eyes staring evilly at him. Black and hideous. A raw scream ripped through his through, fear invading his brain as his heart felt like it would beat so hard it would crack his ribs and chest. Blood rushed relentlessly in his ringing ears.

"SAMMY!"

A voice pierced through his mind, successfully ripping him away from his horrible nightmare. His eyes flew open, wide and fearful as he gasped loudly, his brother in his immediate vision in the dark room that was lessened only by the dull tableside lamp. A pair of hands held his head firmly. Carefully. Concerningly. As he panicked he studied Dean's features, anchoring to the comforting fact that Dean was there and everything was going to be okay. He was trying to calm himself but his heart kept racing and every little sight and noise made his mind scream danger. Dean, scanned Sam up and down, realising quickly he was close to hyperventilating.

Dean was awakened by the worrying and ever growing moans of pain and fear coming from the person laying in the other bed. His first thought was to simply fall back asleep, his mind lulling him into the warm void, but then the security system in his brain automatically kicked in. He couldn't. Not when it was Sammy. Not ever.

He cleared his throat, moving his head so that he could see his brother through the dark room. He blinked a few times, forcing his vision to return. The boys had to learn how to adapt and adjust their eyes since it was a large requirement and practical due to the fact that night time and darkness was a common occurrence. Having an acute ability to see in the dark was a beneficial asset for their job as they often found themselves in the darkest corners of America. Especially when they had to fire a weapon. With accuracy. In times of danger. Against the clock. And edgy, overly aware and mildly disturbed, broken minds. While about to be killed.

It all had to be taken with a grain of salt. Literally.

"You're alright Sammy. Just go back to sleep. Everything's okay." He called out in an uneven voice. Praying his words would be enough to subdue the light fit his brother was slowly working himself into. A scream broke from the boy's frightened lips, urging Dean to quickly jump out of his bed and click the crappy lamp on before stumbling over to Sam and attempt to wake him up. It tore him apart to see Sammy like this. To see him suffering when all he wished for was to take the agony away. He would place it on himself if it meant his brother would be okay.

 _Dammit Sammy..._

He complained wordlessly, knowing that his hope of Sam just falling back asleep and getting the rest he needed was shattered. He now knew that he would have to wake him up and cause him to have yet another failed night of rest. He huffed out shakily as he gently laid his hands on the spasmodic arms of his brother. Calling out his name again. Why couldn't the kid just get one night? One night of peaceful, phsycicless, rest. Was that really too much to ask for?

Sam needed peace so bad. Why could he never get it?...

As Sam's screams increased Dean's attempts to wake him did as well. Finally he resorted to holding his head, which was turning from side to side, in both hands. "SAMMY!" He hallared desperately. Not caring if he woke other occupants in the surrounding rooms.

Sam's eyes flew open. Conveying nothing but pure terror as he all but choked on his own lungs. "Woah, Woah there Sammy. You're okay. Breath. Come on, breath kid!" Dean tried, letting go of his head but keeping his hands hovering near him cautiously.

Sam shot upward in bed and quickly twisted his body so that his feet were on the floor, making Dean have to step back some. Sam took his hands and rubbed them deeply into his eyes, giving Dean the impression that he was attempting to gorge his eyes out. Willing the ache in his head attached to the images to leave him alone. His hands found their way up to his disheveled hair and pushed it out of his face. Twisting his fingers in his brown locks. Dean carefully backed off and softly sat down by the foot of Sam's bed. Carefully eyeing him.

A few strangled cries and a jumbled mess of words repeatedly fell from his stressed mouth as soon as he found his voice and figured out his thoughts. "Gah! We have to find her! S-she needs our help! Help her! We have to help!" He frantically sputtered out. Dean noted the horror filled look in his eyes and realized that Sam was seeing something other than what their current surroundings were.

"Take it easy now." Dean was afraid he was going to pass out from the lack of oxygen getting past his lips. "You need to calm down! Who did you see?"

"She's hurt. Ropes. Tape. Blood. She's- she's in danger. Someone... Someone is hurting her! We have to help."

Sam stood on shakily legs and began walking around the room hysterically. The only thing that was going through his mind was her agony filled face and battered body. The overcoming ache he felt to help her and get her somewhere safe still consumed all reasoning. Sam felt claustrophobic in the confinement of the room and his inability to do anything. His hands were still tangled in his hair as he paced to and fro. Eyes darting from side to side and feet occasionally tripping over one another. "Help... Her!" He repeated in despair.

Dean stood in the flurry of panic Sam was in. Questions building in his mind. He had already put together that Sam must of had a vision.

"Who? Who is 'Her'?! Or-Where is She?!"

"I don't know. I don't _Know_ where she is!... I don't know, I don't know." The words fell miserably from his trembling lips.

"Okay, buddy. If we don't know, we can't help her." He watched as panic flushed through the taller kid's face. "Not until we _Do_ know at least." He added quickly.

Dean grabbed Sam's arms to get him to calm down. The boy initially flinched at the touch but was soon to recover and allow the strong comforting hands to steady him. Sam's vision swam painfully as he swept the floor with distorted eyes, keeping his head down low. "Hey, look at me. Look at me, Sammy!"

Reluctantly he lifted his eyes to meet his brother's. Dean's breath caught in his throat, eyes soft and mouth slightly open at the haunted reflection in the boy's young eyes. He looked to Dean intently, as if his older brother magically had the answers and could make everything better. Sam's mouth was closed in a scared line, his lips turning in as if he was trying to hide everything he could. He stood there shaking. Obediently waiting for Dean's instructions.

"Breath okay? Just breath."

Sam inhaled a long, shaky breath after he heard the command. His mind swirling and confusing him. He wasn't completely all there to say the least.

More images flashed through his mind, memories of his nighterror.

Dean caught into the glassy, far off look in Sam's eyes and began to speak as his breathing started to pick up again. "Sammy, calm down. We can't help her if we have no information. Now, you had a premonition about her, right? Your weird, little vision thing you've got going on?"

Sam nodded.

'Okay..." Dean thought for a moment as he searched for the words his delirious little brother would understand in his current state. "Maybe, if you go back to sleep... You'll have another dream slash vision whatever thingy, and it will show you where she is and how we can help her. We have to help her, right?" He coached calmly.

Sam's eyes wondered but there was now a certain clarity to them that made Dean breath a sigh of relief.

He nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, that might work, maybe it will. I can try." He said more to himself then anyone as he climbed back in bed and laid down. Twisting over and hiding his arms under the pillow and burying his face into it. As if he could crawl into the fabric and disappear from his dreams and pain. He muttered a string of incoherent words as he closed his eyes.

Dean ran his hand through his hair. "Wow." Was all he could say as he watched Sam drift off into a restless sleep. He waited for a few more seconds before returning to his awaiting bed, wincing at the shallow creek it gave as he rolled his body into a comfortable position. Well, as comfortable as a cheap, rundown motel bed got. He glanced at his brother, worried the noise would of awakened him. He smiled contently at the discovery of a lightly snoring Sam. Yet worry still crowded his thoughts.

What the _hell_ was that all about?

He thought before he let sleep consume him again.


End file.
